


My clothes, they're shrunk!

by Tennants_midnight_wolf



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennants_midnight_wolf/pseuds/Tennants_midnight_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Clara! Quickly help me!" <br/>"What is it now?"<br/>"My clothes, they've shrunk!" <br/>The Doctor has shrunk his clothes in the wash and Clara only has one item that will fit him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My clothes, they're shrunk!

“Clara! Quickly help me!”

“What is it now?” She strolls into the kitchen stopping short at the sight before her, the Doctor was kneeling on the tiled floor over a pile of laundry. He was in a white undershirt and boxers.

She never expected _that_ was what he had hidden underneath all those layers.

“My clothes, they've shrunk!” He declares whilst brandishing a pile of sodden clothes towards her.

“Seriously?” She asks incredulous, she knew she should have put it on and not left him to it. She should have realised that when a Time Lord declares ‘ _of course I know how to use_ _a washing machine, I wasn't born yesterday_ ’. That was him pleading ‘ _will you do it for_ _me?_ ’.

“It's not funny, it's your silly machine. It doesn't like me.”

“And calling it silly is really helping. Then again you're on a role with upsetting machines today.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What's that suppose to mean?”

“You know, just saying. First, the TARDIS now my washing machine.”

“The TARDIS wasn't my fault! She's a highly delicate sentient machine and having hot coffee spilt on her didn't exactly make her happy. Or me either. So she's allowed to pick preferences on who's clothes she does or doesn't wash, unlike this.” He motions at the white washer for emphasis.

“I don't think washing machines ‘pick preferences’.”

“What do you mean, of course they do. How do you think the odd sock goes missing? Or a mysterious red garment ends up turning everything pink, when you know you never put it in there.”

“Ah, well that certainly proves one thing. It just likes me better.” She winks at him a small smile playing on her lips, as the Doctor shoots her an irritated glance. “Look, I'm sure it's not that bad.”

She picks up his favourite black jumper from the pile and holds it out in front of her. It was clear it had shrunk several sizes, more so to her size. “Wow! This might actually fit me now.”

“Oh, the Doctor doesn't have anything left to wear. But, never mind because I get a whole new wardrobe.” He says standing up to face her.

“Doctor. It's fine, this can't be all you wear. I've seen your wardrobe, it's massive.”

“Yes, but I've outgrown some of those outfits. I only keep them in case of emergencies.”

“What like now?”

“Yes! I mean no, not like now! Plus she's still huffy, she wouldn't let me get them even if they did fit.”

“Right... Hang on, I may have something. But you're not going to like it.”

Clara wanders to her room, the Doctor trailing reluctantly in her wake whilst she picks out the garment from her wardrobe offering it to him. Yet, it takes several minutes of pure persuasion to convince him to even try it on. Now nearly ten minutes later she was still waiting for him to finish getting ready. She leaned against the wall opposite her bedroom her arms folded, fingers tapping idly against her arm.

“You alright in there?”

The Doctor’s voice finally drifts through the closed door. “Clara you're right, I don't like it.”

“That really doesn't surprise me.”

“Are you positive this is all you have?”

“Yes, I don't exactly keep men's clothes do I?”

“Well I find that very hard to believe considering-“

“Doctor, shut up! Now come on out and show me.”

“I can't, I look positively ridiculous. How can you even wear these things? It's like you've trapped yourself in a suit. Why would you want to do that?” He’s staring in her triple mirrors tilting his body for a different view. As if it may help improve the image reflected back at him.

“Look, I'm sure you look great. But I can't judge you properly if I don't see you, can I?”

“Fine.”

Clara watches the door swing open slowly and there standing in the doorway is a six foot owl. Or more precisely a six foot Time Lord wearing her owl onesie.

She moved her hand to her mouth stifling the laughter that was threatening to spill out. The owl onesie had always been too large for her, but it seemed to fit him perfectly. The light blue colour seemed to reflect his eyes. It had a white oval for the tummy with blue teardrop shapes across the chest. He held his arms out at an odd angle which made the feather effect wings stick out either side of him, like he was about to take flight. The hood was unfortunately down. Not that it made much difference the effect was noticeable, he was the old wise owl.

“Spin.” She half suggests, half commands with a twirl of her finger. As the Doctor sighed and started pivoting on the spot she realised this was a mistake. As he turned it meant that the blue feather-effect tail became visible and now she couldn't stop the laughter at all. He turned to face her his arms folded, and his eyebrows narrowed. He was an angry owl.

“That's it I’m changing!”

“I'm sorry, Doctor. You look… absolutely fine. Better actually. In fact, I think it _owl_ do quite nicely.”

“Oh, ha ha! You're quite the comedian Miss Oswald. It still doesn't make it any better.”

“Come on, it really suits you.” She says encouragingly. “And besides you've got nothing else to wear and it's not like we're doing much today anyway, so...”

He goes silent for a few seconds like he's having an internal debate with himself. Before he finally sighs, giving in.

“Fine, I’ll wear it. Only until I've sorted out some new ones mind.” He adds seeing the dimples appear in her cheeks. “Though in the meantime there is something I need to do.”

“What?”

“Have a word with your washing machine.” He states with a flourish picking up his sonic and dashing off into the kitchen with that all too familiar mischievous glint to his eye.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to my amazing Beta, Tasha. I couldn't get the image of 12 wearing an owl onesie out of my head, thus this was created!


End file.
